


Charred Souffle

by ourdreamsrealized



Series: Birthday Prompt AUs - 2016 [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bad Cooking, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Comedy, Drabble, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Forgotten Birthday, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 06:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourdreamsrealized/pseuds/ourdreamsrealized
Summary: You think Bruce Wayne forgot your birthday, but he is actually planning a surprise. He attempts to cook for you on your birthday and fails miserably.





	Charred Souffle

**Author's Note:**

> 11/15. I really enjoyed writing this one. Bruce is too cute, so thank you to the lovely Anon who requested it! I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Posting stuff from my Tumblr! Enjoy!

“Ah, Miss. L/N!” 

You did not pause when Alfred addressed you in the foyer of Wayne Manor. You simply stepped into the massive house, your navy heels clacking against the marble beneath your feet, and began your search for the master of the home.

“Good Evening, Alfred.”

Normally, you would offer the sweet butler a smile and a kiss to the cheek in greeting, but you came here livid. You intended to stay that way.

“What brings you here?” 

He was following you, now, striving to match your long strides through the main hall of the estate. 

“No reason,” you ground out, trying your best not to take out your emotions on him. “Where’s Mr. Wayne?”

“Oh, dear,” you heard him whisper to himself—he knew you only referred to Bruce as “Mr. Wayne” when he did something wrong. “Should I dare inquire about what he did this time?”

“He fucked up.” 

“On your birthday, of all days?” Alfred asked, a hint of surprise in his voice as he nearly collided with your backside. 

You had paused in your pursuit, distracted by something off-putting. Your nose twisted in disgust as the smell of smoke filled your nostrils, and to prevent further damage to your senses, you brought your fingers to pinch the airway closed.

“What is that smell?” you coughed, looking to the elderly man next to you.  
Alfred let out a long breath, moving passed you and towards the kitchen, “It seems that you were right about Master Bruce.”

“Right?”

“He, as you put it, ‘fucked’ up.”

You felt your jaw drop at what you had just witnessed. Alfred Pennyworth…cursing? What did Bruce  _do_?

Fueled by curiosity over anger, you let Alfred take the lead, following him into the kitchen to see a very disgruntled CEO cussing at a pile of charcoal in a darkened tray.

“I leave you alone for five minutes, and you manage to ruin the food?”

“Sorry, Alfred, but you know I am horrible when it comes to cooking, and Y/N is going to be here any min…” Bruce had looked up and noticed your presence, his statement coming to a premature close. “Oh…You’re here.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, kinking a H/C brow, “Yes. I am.”

Bruce straightened his back, removing his hands from the granite counter as he walked around the island to come and welcome you. When he moved to peck your lips, his fingers grazing your elbow, you turned your head so that his lips would meet your cheek.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned, his grey-blue eyes looking from you to Alfred.

“Yes,” your head snapped towards him, your sharp glare meeting his confused orbs. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Your birthday…”

“No! It’s my—Wait…” your eyes widened, eyebrows nearly reaching your hairline. “Did you just say it was my birthday?”

“Yes,” he smirked, placing his hands on his sides. 

“Oh…” your teeth found your bottom lip as you averted your gaze. “I thought you forgot…”

“How could I forget your birthday?” 

You shrugged, the fire all gone from you as you relaxed your stance, “You didn’t say anything, and I haven’t seen you all day…”

“That’s because he wanted to surprise you with a dinner he made himself,” Alfred interjected, a scowl etched into his features, “but he is complete rubbish at cooking.”

Bruce’s shoulders lifted as he rested a palm on the back of his neck, “I’m not that bad.”

“You managed to burn the soufflé,” his butler pointed out, his voice even.

You chuckled at the exchange, moving towards your boyfriend and cupping his face, “You may not be a world-class-chef, but you sure know how to show a woman you care.”

With that, you gave him a chaste kiss and snuggled up to him, your head finding its place beneath his jaw. He returned the embrace, his muscled arms wrapping around your midsection, and the two of you stayed like that for a moment until Alfred’s sigh reminded you of his presence.

“You’re both lucky you have me, then. I don’t think either of your taste buds could handle Master Bruce’s food.”


End file.
